525 
78 



THE VAIL OF MIST 

BY 
Mm. M. MgNamaji. 



THE VAIL OF MIST 



BY 



MRS. M. McNAMAR 



AUTHORESS OF 

'Ju»l Mu*e,'' "Oovvii Deep In 
The Woods" and "Other 
Poems. ' ' 



DEDICATED TO 

THE SCHOOLS OF OREGON 



Mc>iAMARS, PUBLISHERS 
C«rrojfwooD, Calif. 

(Copyright 1919) 



^;.x^ 



©CU585124 



o \ 



Synopsis 

After ^^Ju9t Muse'' first appeared in 
book form, a reader from the less sunny 
clime of the great northwest writes attrib- 
uting poetical inclination to the *' won- 
derful days and the wonderful nights of 
beautiful Sunshine .Valle}^" (California) 
and insinuates that the '*misty climate" 
of the northern state gives less pleasant 
surroundings and leads to less poetical 
thoughts. Therefore The Vail of Mist 
has been written with the Webfoot State 
as the setting and some of its **misty'' 
beauty protrayed therein. 

To write the poem, a special study was 
made of the flora of Oregon and only 
species chosen that appear within its 
borders 

Time is pictured in the heavier vegeta- 
tion, while '*Timid Smile" might be inter- 
preted as meaning: a person, absolute 
happiness or * 'just a smile" according to 
the readers fancy. 



Happiness in all her beauty, 
In her faith and tryst to duty, 
In youth, in age or in her prime, 
Stands subject to the call of time. 



THE VAIL OF MIST 



PRELUDE 

Ye Oregon— wonderland of hill! 
What good spirit came unto thee 
In that age remote and still 
And laid the hand of luxury 
Upon thy brow? Held back no gift; 
Visited thee with showers of weatlh, 
Endowed thee as none other 
Hath been endowed, with verdure 
Clad, as none other hath been clad. 
Oregon— wonderland of bloom! 
Whence comethall that growth? 
Why select thee as the favored 
Child, and heap magnificence 
Upon thee in that day of days 
In ancient days, and reserved it 
For a generation yet unborn? 
Oregon— land of mighty trees! 
With bearded faces all, and written 
Father Time's own countenance 



Upon their cracked bark, and 
Hoary too, they *look toward north 
As if to scorn the rays of Sol, 
And take delight in shadows cast. 
They are not shorn by winds, nor 
Cometh frost or beating elements 
To take a toll; but gentle rains 
And MISTS preserves them on for aye. 
Oregon, know ye where dwells 
Those good fairies who doth possess 
The secret of thy blessed state, 
And reveals it unto one who 
Queries for a truth so great? 
What mystic myth of primal day 
Invaded here and willed that 
Giant kings of vegetation rule- 
Even as Sylvanus willed for 
All the wild Lebanon slope, or 
Phaeton scorched Sahara's breast— 
And secreted his marvelous 
Work until this later day? 
What visions rose before that 
Path-finder who looked first 



*lt is said that the moss on the trees in Oregon 
grows more luxuriant on the north sides because 
of the coniinuai shade. 



Upon thy draped form, and saw 
Th3a elaborately adorned! 
E'en so the bride awaits her lord; 
When the appointed hour due 
Civilization came and claimed 
Thee as his own. Thou Oregon! 



THE VAIL OF MIST 

A Timid Smile once went to play, 

But it was such a misty day, 

She first must find the Vale of Joy, 

Where pleasure reigns without alloy. 

For Timid Smile, how timid she. 

Frightened as all children be, 

At all imaginative wrong, 

And passes real misfortune on. 

But how could Smile attempt to play 

When it was such a cloudy day, 

Such denseness in that fog and mist, 

Where could the Vale of Joy exist? 

But seeking it she went that day. 

For Smile was young and Smile must 

play, 
As all things that have wiliy ways 



Are baffled not by cloudy days. 
She knew it must be bright and fair, 
She sought it here, she sought it there, 
And every effort did employ. 
But found it not, the Vale of Joy. 
S'i3 hurriel through the heath and hedge, 
O'er moor and hill and slope and ledge, 
Tnrough forests wild, o'er rivers deep. 
And up the mountain's rugged steep. 
She tarried m a murky lee, 
Tarried long and naught did see, 
But hanging low that vail of mist. 
Tarried longer, now— to wist 
A face up there in that great tree! 
The face of Father Time— ah he 
Could tell her all she needs must know. 
Why further seek, why further go? 
Then stepping softly Timid Smile 
Approached the sanctum, paused awhile, 
And fearing something knew not what. 
His unshorn face, she feared that not, 
Nor giant arms— for giant he, 
His statue formed in that great tree- 
Feared not the shadow casted down, 
Like a sundial swinging half around; 
Feared not his voice or seeing eyes, 
But feared the wisdom of the wise. 



Summoned courage, queried coy, 
*Tray where is the Vale of Joy?" 

No artifice with Father Time 
Would cause his countenance to shine, 
Or pucker more his furrowed brow. 
Or move or condescend to bow, 
Not even to that Timid Smile, 
Who longed to frisk in play awhile. 
He cast a glance not up, not down, 
Abated breath, in voice profound, 
A breath unfelt and yet was heard, 
An under breath his every word, 
A piney breath morendo tone. 
Breath of winds so lightly blown. 
Winds another age has known. 
Known only in that monotone, 
Winds that rumpled not his hair, 
Great coney knots entangled there, 
Nor bobbed he his mossy chin, 
A chin all wrinkled much and thin, 
Chin, so heavily bewhiskered 
Moving not at all, he whispered, 
Whispered sweetly, soft and low, 
''Ask the fairies they know." 

That Timid Smile, how timid she, 

5 



Timid as all leminine be, 
Forgets timidit»y;'s precept 
When curiosity doth intersept. 
Forg\:>t to fear, forgot reserve, 
Frona closer range sought to observe 
That shaggy face unsheared, unshorn 
By Father Time so grimly borne; 
Wavered not nor stood in awe 
Of prestige or tradition's law, 
Piped a question, coyness lost, 
To learn the truth so all engrossed, 
Earnest, no impertinence shown, 
''Why are you so overgrown?" 
For questionairs at all not prone, 
And Father Time was never known 
To stand for quiz, but Smile did lisp 
Her question— she a will-o-wisp — 
Forgot himself, and answered **M,ist/' 
Lapsed into silence, Smile dismissed. 

Then Timid Smile a seeking went, 
To find the fairies all intent; 
But never once had she surmised 
Where they lived, and was surprised 
To find them on the plot of' green, 
More fairies than she'd ever seen, 
Right where she, herself Would play 
6 



If it had been a sunny flay. 
Surrounded all by spruce and yew, 
Cascadean peaks a peeking tbrough; 

Fairies, fives and tens and twelves, 

Dancing there all by themselves; 

Dancing on mahaia mats, 

With whispering bells keeping taps, 

Were tripping lightly all in line. 

In and through the wild grape vine; 

(it must have been the g^ap^-vine-tw.i^•>tv) 

And not a step or measure missed. . 

Fairies dressed as fairies do, 

All in their fancy costums, too, 

And never seemed to mind at all 

If rain and mist did on them fall. 

It never soiled their fluffy things, 

Or crumpled up their gauzy wings, 

Wings, all made of lacy fern, 

Sprays lapping over all in turn, 

And trimmed around with fuzzy dowa, 

Beneath the pussy-willows found. 

On their heads were all new fangled 

Blue and red-bell wreaths that bangieMt, 

On satin-bell skirts were sprangles 

Of honeysuckle blows and spangles; 

Their bodices of sassafras 

Leaves, laced up with ribbon grass; 

7 



Was waving each a cat- tail wand, 
Brought them from the near by pond. 

The call for such a festal day, 
Where ail che fairies came to play? 
Came all the fairies in the land 
To celebrate a wedding grand. 
And dancing round with all the rest 
The bride so beautifully dressed; 
And never blushed and never bowed 
But mingled with the happy crowd. 
On her head a sweet blue-bonnet, 
With wild pansy blooms upon it, 
Syringa ruch around her neck, 
No other fairy could bedeck 
Herself so fine, although they tried, 
So they let this one be the bride. 
She stood beneath the mistletoe. 
And all the fairies loved her so, 
*Twas sad that they should miss -smeh 

bliss. 
But no one thought to steal a kiss. 
Th^y had no rice or worn out shoe, 
So what did those gay fairies do 
But take pink, manzanita blooms 
To shower the bride. My, what perfumes! 

The luncheon spread for one and aii, 
8 



For all the fairies at the ball - 
Thimble berries for finger bowls, 
TvvO' big dew-drops each one holds, 
Lambs-quarter and sweet wild cherries, 
Watercress and service berries, 
Battercups filled with peppermint, 
My, what a minty scent that sent 
Prevading all the atmosphere, 
Its cells of honey nice and clear! 
Grandpa-apples all served up 
To each one in an acorn cup; 
Deer tongue sliced with mustard seed, 
And milk drawn from a big milkweed, 
Into pitcher plants strained and poured, 
And dipped out with a tiny gourd. 
Hazel nuts with sugary fill, 
From the sugar pine on the hill ; 
And strawberries so nice and red, 
Never was such a luncheon spread; 
But not one fairy stopped to dine, 
From dancing didn't take the time; 
And none was absent, no not one, 
Except the groom, he didn't come, 
(In fairy-land there are no boys, 
They always put a stop to joys,) 
They missed him not, not e'en the bride, 
Johnny-jump-ups on every side 
Appeared, and peered at fairies all, 
9 



At all the fairies at the ball, 
And if they cared to they could call, 
Bat they were needed not at all, 
And all was light and ail was gay. 
Although it was a misty day. 

Now wouldn't such a funny sight 
Put all soberness to flight, 
And happiness would take its place 
And shine and sheen on every face? 
But Smile just stood there quite amazed, 
As on this pretty sight see gazed, 
And no discord her presence caused, 
Till all the lovely fairies paused 
Beside her, then she made the query, 
But not one of them, so airy, 
Could tell aught of the Vale of Joy 
Where pleasure reigns without alloy ; 
*'We know just for ourselves," said they, 
**And only know just for to-day." 
Much abashed that Timid Smile, 
Who longed to frisk in play awhile, 
Loitered on the carpet green. 
Just one other fact to glean. 
The where and why for all that dress 
And spread, and who would ever guess? 
One kindly fairy whispered low, 

10 



As if she wanted none to know 
She told; and said 'twould not exist 
Weri it not for the rain and mist. 

But Timid Smile could never see 
Just how all that could ever be; 
She lingered in a leafy dell, 
The dewy mist upon her fell, 
Fell gently, unperturbed and slow, 
If ^was not seen she would not know; 
But felt the power of some one eyeing, 
Glancmg up she saw one spying, 
His form grotesquely concealed, 
But the tall hemlock revealed 
There Father Time, authentic spy, 
Upon all secrets prone to pry; 
She was astound that he^d perceive 
Her quandary, and would relieve. 
But why surprised when Father Time, 
Who works his will in pantomime, 
When eVe dire measures come to view 
Consults his annuals, giving true 
Solution to all that would vex, 
And clears all problems that perplex. 
Experience his chief of aid, 
No event lost, or records fade, 
Though he has far all ages rung 

11 



Th2 death knell, no requiem sung 
Or penned for him, but reigning on . 
With day his scepter, night his wand, 
As old, so old, still ever young, 
His import spoken by no tongue; 
Yet Timid Smile as old as he, 
And Timid Smile will ever be 
As young; no soberness is worn. 
Bat great imagination borne 
And flung afield, now would employ 
His council for the Vale of Joy. 
Again from out the sanctom grave, 
Singularly this message gave, 
Gave it softly, sweet and low, 
''Ask the elf kins, they know." 

The Smile then hastily did go 

To find the elves, but did not know 

Where they lived, 'twas hard to find. 

To give up, she had half a mind. 

So disappointed with her lot, 

She lingered in a quiet grot, 

And she would stay if she but could. 

Among the fragrant lilac wood. 

But it was such a misty day, 

She dare not stay or try tq play, ,^ „ 

But cast about, and there did see 

12 



The elves beneath an alder tree. ^ ■ 
And saeh a sight, would .you believe? 
Wnat they were playing, if you please, 
King and coart and rule and law, 
And'^not a court one ever saw, 
And not a king one ever knew, 
So how did they know what to do? 
But know they did, and would extol 
Their .knowledge of the rigmarole . 
That goe.^ with coronation day. 
Each and every part could say. 
No greater scene could ever be 
Than that beneath that alder tree. 
The kuig sac- an a prickly pod, 
And raied them with a golden-rod. 
It was the golden rule, he said. 
That they might all become well bred. 
■ With guards and heralders and dukes 
And lords, (but none of them were d'Qpes. } 
You see the elves are only boys, 
So all the girls had to be toys. 
A black-eyed-Susan for the maid. 
(No heed to orders ever paid,) 
March marigold to be the page, 
They found it by the spicy sage; 
The aid de camp, a real elf, 
(Of most importance to himself,) 
Court jester was no foolish down, 



Bat just a graat big daff-a-dow^n- . , 
Dilly, and it did look silly, 
Standing there, a yellow lily, 
Without a move, or word to say, 
And no attention did it pay 
To king or court or aid de camp, 
Indeed, it looked more like a lamp. 
What do you think they had for queen? 
No fairer one was ever seen, 
A lily of the valley stood 
Right in the place a good queen should. 
And what a queen, and what a brace, 
And what a throne those two did grace! 
Wild morning-glories up side down 
Were worn for hats, except the crown, 
And that was just a buffalo bur 
They found beside a big red fir. 
The weapon for each guard so bold, 
How boastingly and proud to hold 
Shooting stars, and they could shoot 
Arrows made of arrow root. 
The trumpeters could call and chant 
Announcements through a trumpet plant. 
Their canopies were big mushrooms 
All topped off with sorrel top plumes; 
Seating conveniences were found, 
Toad-stools enough to go around; 
But not a single elf to pay 
14 



The least head to that raiay day, 
Not e'en the queen to stew and fret 
Because her gown was damp and wet. 
But each duke held a parasol, 
An umbrella plant was all, 
Imagined that it kept them dry, 
The poor-man's weather-glass grew nigh, 
Although it called for still more rain, 
No melancholy* on then came. 
Now Timid Smile, all unannounced, 
Came to the king, and not denounced. 
She pled her cause, but none could bear 
Witness as to when or where 
Or how she'd find the Vale of Joy, 
Where pleasure reigns without alloy. 
But said that each and every elf 
Had surely found it for himself. 
When questioned why the mushrooms 

grew 
To over size, the least elf drew 
The Smile aside, and then dismissed 
Her with this simple missive '*Mist.'* 

Now all befuddled, Timid Smile, 
Who longed to frisk in play awhile, 

*The presence of the poor man's weather-glMi ii 
aapp39ed to brin? melancholy 

15 



Went back to Father Tims once more, 
Found him on Lake Waldo's shore; 
Visionsd in that stalwart oak, 
Careful lest she might provoke 
His majesty, but half iridined 
To think he was of twaddling mind. 
Twice now he had sent her wrong, 
Yet imaged there so staunch and strong, 
Strong for truth and strong for right, 
For greatest mysteries brought to light; 
Doubt must flee before his face. 
Still for a moment held its place 
Within the heart of Timid Smile, 
Not to degrees that would beguile 
Her to design or skepticize, 
None such as Smile could theorize 
Or realize Time had the power 
To liniit her that very hour. 
With hope the ruling element. 
Pursued the quest with good intent; 
No artifice did she employ, 
"Pray where is the Vale of Joy?" 
Hark! Was he chuckling? Nay, ah nay! 
^Twas just a branch that chanced to sway. 
Swaying gently, and a fluttering 
Of leaves jn faintest muttering, 
Muttering softly, sweet and low, 
^^Askthe witches, they kn6W 

i6 



Again th^ Smile was put to test, 
To weigh desire and interest 
'Gainst failure and uncertainty, 
And asertain integrity. 
While lingering upon the hill, 
On Pinhead hill, so steep and still. 
She came upon the witches three, 
And pausing there what did she see? 
Witches all dressed up so grand, 
Like witches of no other land, 
And riding too, and did not stay 
Because it was a misty day. 
Cared not if ferbelows were spoiled. 
Just so their pleasure was not foiled; 
And ne'er did witches act like they, 
So frivolous and light and gay. 
Powdered up their hooked noses 
With pollen from the pink wild roses. 
Their petticoats were all befrilled 
With redbuds that some bush had spilled, 
(Because the witches love them so* 
The redbuds cling to them you know,) 
And buttoned on with great buff balls, 
Patched up water leaves for shawls, 
The pinking iron had been around, 

*A'.*,>rdiii^ to ticidition the redbud, sometimes 
called J uda^ trees, are the favorite rendezvoui for 
witches. 

17 



And every scallop it had found, 
And seamed so neatly at each gore 
No one could tell, and each one wore 
A dogwood blossom for a hat, 
What headgear could compair with that? 
Beau catchers too, (but goodness knows 
Witches never do have beaux,) 
Forget- me-nots and tulips, too, 
In button holes a sticking through; 
And laurel leaves, as if to say 
They'd v/on the honors of the day. 
Holding, as their trade requires 
Scepters made of gooseberrie briers, 
And crooked too, but goosie folks 
Like witches do not care for jokes. 
Therefore they never once did guess 
How out of line was all their dress. 
As witch or fairy, one must be 
In keeping with the place, you see. 
Steeds, bless you were not merely brooms, 
But gigantic snow plant blooms; 
As crimson as the crimsonest. 
And against those stirrups pressed 
Lady-slippers, what did inspire 
Those witches to such gay attire, 
And gave them mounts that they might 

go 
Way up where lies the summer snow? 
18 



straight for Mount Hood's hooded head, 
Was aiming there, and on they sped, 
Bat never moved a peg, not they. 
Just mind it was that sped away. 
And all was song and all was gay, 
Regardless of that misty day. 

Seems this great sight would then beguile 
That Timid Smile to smile a smile. 
She once again forgot the quest, 
By their garbs so all impressed; 
She watched those witches at their play, 
And wondered what on earth to say , 
Ventured near and voiced her need. 
The witches gave her little heed, 
But if they knew they'd surely tell, 
*'For," they said '*You know quite well 
We never keep good secrets long. 
And never tell a thing that's wrong. '' 
But Smile still lingered on the hill. 
Lingered there a moment till 
She ask the witch that was in charge. 
What made the snow plant grow so large. 
The witch, so very sober now, 
A serious look upon her brow, 
She gave her face a funny twist, 
And leaning near she whispered '*Mist/' 

19 



Then urged her steed and leaped a mile 
She thought, and left the Timid Smile. 

Now that was such a sad mistake 
For one like Father Time to make, 
Sending Smile to witch and elf, 
He ought to know the truth himself. 
She parlied near a crooked crook, 
A crooked crook of Tillamook, 
Again she sought the sanctom old. 
Now trying to appear so bold; 
Viewed him in that lengthly column 
Of myrtle wood, it stood so solemn, 
So solemn and with dignity, 
That does behest one such as he; 
Viewed and saw imprinted there 
The woe and grief and blank despair 
Of ages that the world has known, 
And joy and peace and love that's flown 
Afar, and scattered the sublime; 
Stamped on the brow of Father Time. 
Virtues and vice, since morning prime, 
Stamped on the brow of Father Time. 
More softly now, she might annoy, 
'Tray where is the Vale of Joy?" 
Again that whisper, sweet and low, 
''A^k the pigmies, they know." > 
20 



Then Timid Smile went wandering, 
While wandering was pondering, 
Pondering what she'd seen that day. 
Wondering if her quest would pay. 
As it was she chanced to be 
In Pleasant Valley by the sea, 
And just as she would turn aside 
A groop of happy folks she spied. 
Pigmies all down in the glade, 
Gathered there to play old maid, 
And not a maiden there, not one, 
(Pm very sure they wanted none.) 
Instead they'd gathered wild sweet peas, 
And grooped them up in twos and threes, 
And each one chose his own bouquet, 
Now wasn't that a funny way 
To play old maid? 0, dear me. 
They sang the Ranzy Tanzy Tee! 
And left no flower to wilt and fade 
And pine away as the old maid- 
Each one thought he had a daisy, 
(Pigmies' minds are always hazy,) 
Each one felt himself a dandy, 
And, because they grew so handy. 
Wore two big dandelions for show. 
But not a puff of wind to blow 
Away a dandies' empty head, 
But a heavy fog instead 

21 



settled down, and then bagan to 
Fall a gentle rain, but then who 
Cared? For although they were dressed 
All up in their Sunday best, 
A little rain would harm them none, 
And only make for greater fun; 
'T would brighten up their dusty clothes, 
And make them handsomer as beaux- 
Sweethearts to those sweet bouquets; 
Of three sweet-peas in sweet nosegays. 
Wearing fox-gloves on their scrawny 
Hands, and rogue on faces tawny, 
(Rogue, you know, was all the vogue, 
They found it by the river Rogue, 
Bat never could a river be 
As roguish as a pig-o-me!) 
Leopard plant for waistcoats neat. 
Those dappled leaves could not be beat 
For coats, but vests they did not ijeed,, 
Neckties, each a wapoto reed^ 
Cedar burs to hold them *round, 
What better tie clasp could be found? 
To wear a hat each did refuse. 
Good gracious, they forgot their shoes! 
But they were such a happy lot. 
No difference what they had forgot, 
Nothing could put a ban or fate 
Or curb upon their joval ways. 

22 



Two big buckeyes watched up there 
From branch to S33 the game played fair, 
But not a one would think to cheat, 
Or care a speck if he got beat. 
To interupt it seemed a shame, 
But in this case no one could blame 
Timid Smile, for diligently 
She'd followed up the quest, you see, 
And diligence and heedfulness 
Eventually will meet success; 
Therefore she summoned courage new, 
Proceeded then to interview 
The pigmies on the theme at heart. 
But not a quay could they impart. 
Contented all in their own way. 
And minded not that misty day. 
When quized about those big buckeyes. 
What made them so immense in size. 
Firmly those pigmies did insist 
The secret of it lay in mist. 

Back to Father Time she hurried. 
Doubtful now and somewhat worried. 
Lest that bard be mocking her. 
His presence in that douglas fir. 
So gloomy was his form, and dark, 
His grimy face in that black bark, 

23 



Doubted if he really knew 
Just who it was could tell her true; 
With all his wise judicious looks , 
No great amount of wisdom brooks; 
Regardless of his gift of years. 
And his high place among the peers, 
The honor dignity and fame 
Characterizing his great name, 
Experience and prestige too, 
To back his word, and prove he knew, 
Yet, withal he'd sadly blundered, 
And the Timid Smile now wondered, 
Wondered if he was always just 
To the children of his trust; 
Worthy of exalted praise 
That the world so proudly gave, 
And Timid Smile among the great 
To stand in awe of his high state. 
Now sought him that he might convoy 
The quest to find the Vale of Joy. 
Time once again unconsciously, 
Gave her a clew, so thoughtlessly, 
Gave it softly, sweet and low, 
"Ask the brownies, they know." 

On the banks of Tumalo creek, 
Diligently the Smile did seek, 
24 



And found one brownie all alone, 
Dawn in a glade so overgrown. 
S3 overgrown with night shades blae, 
And poison oak and thistles too, 
Wild parsnip plants and cancer roots, 
Stagger brash and rattlesnake shoots; 
So overgrown with great smart weeds, 
With wahoo brush and loco seeds. 
Withal 'twould be a pretty pass 
If brownie fell among that mass 
Of harmful things, but fell he not. 
Their harmful natures he forgot. 
For he was riding like the wind. 
And never stopped or seemed to mind. 
About unpleasant things, or thought 
Himself alone, or trouble bought. 
But on he went, and such a steed, 
It was a tiger lily reed 
Bended down and he had climbed 
Upon it and when there did find 
Such a horse as ne'er before 
A brownie had to travel o'er 
Heath and hedge and bramble brier , 
He proved himself a galant flier. 
No saddle nor a reign to grip, 
No curbing bit or lashing whip, 
But larkspurs on his pointed heels, 
(You know a lily never feels) 
25 



But brownie never tried to goad 
His steed along that pleasant road, 
The road that flatters and decoys, 
And leads to superficial joys. 
He thought he was a knight of old. 
And making for the great stronghold, 
Yonder in that tamarack grove 
A rendezvous where robbers clove; 
And ne'er a brownie rode like that, 
A feather grass scuck in his hat, 
And *twas a feather in his cap 
That he came through with no mishap.. 
Now Timid Smile had witnessed much. 
Seemed inevitable that such 
Happy scenes would give the clew, 
And she would know just what to do. 
But truth and light cannot exist 
When shadowed by a '*Vail of Mist." 
More timid now, this Timid Smile, 
Who longed to frisk in play a while, 
Asked the brownie if he'd mind 
To tell where she'd be apt to find 
The secret of the Vale of Joy, 
Where pleasure reigns without alloy. 
"The Vale of Joy that is for you? 
1 know not where, I tell you true. 
Such knowledge I cannot impart, , 
My Vale of Joy lies in my heart." 
26 



But Smile forgot the quest in trend, 
And saw that tiger lily bend 
And break not under weight oppressed, 
The secret of its strength not guessed, 
But asked the why for its great size, 
The brownie, very much surprised. 
He motioned Smile to bend and list. 
While he softly whispered **Mist/' 
Then hastened on with greater speed, 
And gave no thought or further heed 
To Timid Snile there by his side; 
He thought he traveled far and wide, 
But never moved from out his track, 
The lily bending forward, back, 
How happy did that brownie feel, 
To him it was a tiger real; 
In those leaps and bounds and springs, 
Declared it beat Pagasus' wings. 



'Twas such a mystifying thing 
How mist could cause to be or bring 
All that wonderous over growth. 
Quickly Smile forgot them both. 
Both brownie and the lily too, 
A weary way she did pursue, 
Back to Father Time she went, 
On the quest still so intent, 
27 



latent to fini the Vale of Joy, 
Where pleasure reigns without alloy. 
Now Father Time said not a word, 
Appeared as if he never heard ; 
So still and tall and gaunt and grim. 
Pictured in the trunk and limb 
Of a dead pine, and ne'er was known 
A dead pine to as much as moan. 
Dead and rigid, stiff and cold, 
(The end of everything we're told,) 
All feU away his hair and beard, 
Much more the Timid Smile now feared 
Lest 'twas a ghost of long ago 
To haunt and reprimand her, so 
She turned and mid a denser haze 
A familiar sight met her gaze. 
A sight as old as Father Time, 
So common too, but most sublime. 
'Tis common things that are sublime, 
And in the common things we find 
The seat of all our happiness. 
And the soul of.what will bless; 
For common things are shared by all. 
And in the sharing blessings fall 
Anew to all who are concerned, 
Shared in part, ten fold returned. 



28 



A robin came and sat to preen 
His feath3rs, when the Smile had seen 
Him perched upon the nettle bough, 
And was not nettled— tell me how 
Anything would dare to settle 
On the needles of the nettle- 
Robin perched and never seemed 
To mind, and in his presence gleamed, 
Gleamed the theory and the theme, 
The robin ever prone to queme. 
Then limid Smile, aweary now, 
Approached the needle nettle bough. 
**0 robin, you have traveled through 
This great land, I beg of you 
To tell me of the Vale of Joy, 
Where pleasure reigns without alloy. 
For I am Smile, I want to play. 
But this is such a misty day, 
How can a Smile e'er dare to stay, 
Where all the land is dreary, gray? 
I asked of Father Time to tell, 
I thought he'd surely know so well, 
But never knew it, no, not he, 
But told me other folks to see. 
I asked the fairies and the elves. 
They only knew just for themselves, 
The witches and the pigmies too, 
And brownie, seemed that no one knew, 
29 



Bat they it was who Father Time 
Told me was versed along that line." 
The robin perching on that bough, 
Perched and listened, listened how 
That Timid Smile had sought to find 
The Vale of Joy, and none was kind 
Enough to tell her when and where 
She, herself might enter there. 
Listened, heeded, barkened well. 
And then the truth to her would tell. 

^'Ho! Father Time is such a sage. 
Has no conception of the age; 
Sending you to fairy folks, 
Why elves and such are only jokes! 
A wonder that he did not say 
Lubentia or such as they 
That lived way back in mythic times 
When every one had mythy minds. 
For imaginary things like they 
On tneir own imaginations play, 
Kno vv not che trouble that provokes 
The lives and minds of other folks. 
*Tis so if one cannot impart 
The joy that lies in his own heart 
To others, then a myth is he, 
And only mythy things will see. 
30 



Hark! This is not a mythy a^a, 

But an age when truth mast wage 

And weige its precepts into mind. 

Taitall tha wjrli m>ht kno-v its kind. 

Njw verily I tell yoa this, 

The Vale of Joy is not a myth, 

Bat genuine, and it is real, 

And not a place, bat what you feel; 

In everything it is revealed, 

On every face its stamp is sealed 

And every grace it do3=? employ, 

B-hold it now, the Vaieof Joy!'^ 

Then robin when his story told. 

Lo! afar the mist had rolled, 

And splendor drap3d tha earth and skies, 

The Smile stood thare with opened eyes. 

How could she then help bat play 

When it was such a lovely day? 

O'er yonder hill appeared the bow, 

In yonder field the san aglow; 

In e\7ery tree and shrub and flower, 

In every nook and leafy bower. 

Visions of that Vale of Joy, 

Where pleasure reigns without alloy; 

And fresh ani bright and fair— to wist, 

What made it so? The Vail op Mist. 

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